


A Place Where I Belong

by glointhedark23



Category: Beetlejuice (TV 1989)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Love, Mild Language, Sexual Content, Smoking, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7118227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glointhedark23/pseuds/glointhedark23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BJ is a washed up magician has-been who lost his powers after fame and fortune got to his head. After years of feeling sorry for himself, he meets the kind and mysterious Lydia Deetz who has traveled half way across the country to learn more about her biological mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU - BJ is a washed up magician that has spent almost 20 years on the streets. Lydia Deetz moves half way across the country to learn more about her deceased mother. With the help of BJ and many of the locals, Lydia learns more than she bargains for.
> 
> This is based mostly off of the cartoon, though I may pull movie references here and there.
> 
> This will be a chaptered fic, I wanted it to show as such but I'm still learning how to post things correctly on A03 - ill get it right one of these days. 
> 
> I do not own anything related to Beetlejuice - if I did there would already be a present day spin off of Married!BJ/Lyds and a second movie. But alas.

   It was a sunny Thursday afternoon and Lydia Deetz stood in her brand new home. “New” was a loose term, she supposed, but it was new to her and that’s what mattered. Looking around, she knew that anyone else would think this place was a dump. The kitchen tile was yellowed and cracked in some places, the window sills were littered with dirt and dead flies, the once-white paint on the walls was chipped and peeling, there were various cracks in the ceiling and floorboards. Evidence of the previous tenants could be found in the drawers and cupboards, dry onion peels littering the floor of the tiny pantry and the refrigerator smelled of spoiled milk. The small, fenced in back yard was overgrown with weeds and the basement was still packed with boxes of junk. There were two small window units (once upstairs and one downstairs) to get her through the heat of summer.

   Lydia smiled. She _loved_ it.

   Almost every hard earned dollar had gone into the move: her down payment, first month’s rent, the gas of moving all of her belongings, and a few scarce groceries and toiletries had almost wiped her out. Every agonizing moment of waiting tables, cleaning hotel rooms and flipping burgers had paid off. Not to mention all of the freelance photography jobs she’d done on any of her time off.

   No more asking for permission to stay out late, no more of her step-mother’s never ending nagging, no more of Claire Brewster’s relentless bullying. No more.

   Lydia Deetz was a peculiar 20 year old girl. Up until the age of 14 she had grown up in New York City, (excluding the short time she lived in Louisiana with her father and biological mother while she was still in diapers - but she couldn’t remember that.) It was while she was living in NYC that she became intrigued with the strange and unusual. At a very young age, she began photographing these strange and unusual things with an old camera of her father’s. Pleased with his daughter’s interest in photography, Charles Deetz purchased her a _rea_ l camera for her birthday. Lydia snapped pictures of buildings, people, street signs, movie posters, even bugs. Living not far from a large cemetery, she also enjoyed capturing images of headstones and mausoleums.

   She didn’t have many friends in New York, but she was a daddy’s girl and when she wasn’t snapping photos or watching old horror films, she spent her time with him. That was, until he got married. Lydia liked Delia for the most part. She was a little…eccentric, but that didn’t bother her, and most importantly – she made Lydia’s father happy. A new mother, however, did change the relationship she once had with her father and Lydia found herself alone most of the time. At first, being alone didn’t bother her so much, but as time went on she became more and more lonely. To make things worse, Delia hated when Charles and Lydia spoke of her birth mother. Lydia knew very little of her mother as it was, only two old pictures and a handful of stories that her father had told her. Knowing how it hurt her father to remember, Lydia tried to only ask for stories occasionally. Those occasional stories had become non-existent after the wedding, though.

   To Delia, _she_ was Lydia’s only mother. _She_ was the object of Charles’ affection. It was hard living under the shadow of a woman who’d been long dead. A change of scenery was what they needed.

   When Chuck and Delia told Lydia they were moving, the idea both frightened and excited her. She was always up for something new, but New York City was a place she had grown to love. All her artwork had been inspired by it, after all. But the prospect of moving somewhere new, somewhere where she could find a friend, captivated her interest. Unfortunately, things didn’t go quite according to plan. The teenage girls of ‘Mrs. Shannon’s school for girls’ in Peaceful Pines had a stigma against new kids, especially new kids that dressed in black and wrote poetry during lunch breaks. The only girls that Lydia got along with were Bertha and Prudence, but even _they_ thought she was strange.

   Determined to make the best of her situation, Lydia had stuck to her studies, continued taking photographs, and graduated with flying colors. Making it through high school without a true friend had been difficult, but Lydia persevered. After graduation, she got herself a full time summer job – and then another part time job after Delia’s insistence that she go to college intensified. Lydia didn’t find herself interested in going to college, at least not yet, and had something else in mind instead: Louisiana.

   The idea of his little girl moving so far away saddened Charles, but in all honesty he’d known it was inevitable. Lydia knew only a few scarce things of her birth mother, and while Charles had no doubt she wanted as far away from Peaceful Pines as she could get, she was after information. Information that he couldn’t give her.

   Greenwick, Louisiana was a drastic and welcome change. Her new home rested a comfortable space of 1400 or so miles from Peaceful Pines, Connecticut. Only a few hours southwest of New Orleans, Greenwick wasn’t a large town but not terribly small either – like Peaceful Pines. Only mid-April and Lydia was already beginning to feel the heat difference. The hot and humid Louisiana air was something that she would have to get used to, of course, but it was so beautifully and wonderfully _different_.

   The small house she would be residing in was a great find. An old friend of her fathers was a local here and had been the one to find it for her upon hearing her interest to relocate. The old house needed a little Tender-Loving-Care, but if there was anything that Lydia excelled in – it was the art of making things beautiful.

    _Well, beautiful to_ me _at least_ , She thought, trying to pry open a long-shut window. Beginning to fear that the thin glass of the window would break if she kept trying to force it up, she stood with a sigh and shrugged her shoulders. Sure, she had her work cut out for her, but this was her very own place and she was more proud of it than she’d ever been of anything.

   Lydia spent the rest of the day unpacking her dishes and clothes, hanging her deep red curtains, replacing light bulbs and re-organizing the living room until it suited her tastes. By the end of her day she was wiped out, but ecstatic; even after only a few hours it was beginning to look like home.

   Before heading to bed, Lydia decided to take a short walk. The night air, while still heavy with humidity, was considerably cooler and a light wind had picked up. Lydia walked to the end of her road and made a left on Main Street, heading in the direction of a small shop that sat on the corner. The glass door chimed her arrival and she heard a half-hearted greeting from somewhere in the back. She looked around for a few minutes, getting acquainted with the closest shop to her home, then settled on a few snacks and made her way to the counter. A plump brunette in her mid to late forties greeted Lydia with a warm smile and began scanning her items.

   “You look awfully familiar” She woman said, bagging the rest of Lydia’s things. “Have we met before?”

   “My mother used to live here, maybe you knew her?”

   Recognition registered in her eyes and the woman’s eyebrows lifted a few inches.

   “You’re Catherine’s little girl!” Lydia smiled, pleased to already meet someone that knew her mother.

   “Yeah, my name is Lydia.” She shook her hand, “Nice to meet you!”

   The woman introduced herself as Ginger and seemed genuinely pleased to meet Lydia. After niceties, Ginger jotted her number down on a slip of paper and handed it over to Lydia along with her change.

   “If you need anything at all you let me know, honey” She said, “Your mother was one of the kindest people I ever met.”

   Lydia was struck almost dumb by the kindness of this stranger.

   “Thank you, Ginger!” Lydia smiled again before leaving, her spirits elated.

   On her way out of the store she almost tripped over a man in an old, dirty, striped suit sitting on the pavement, leaning up against the brick building. Stepping past him, their gaze met briefly. She nodded in greeting, still smiling, and glanced behind her. Ginger had stepped out of the store to light a cigarette, she and the man both watching Lydia walk away. Feeling a little awkward, Lydia smiled back at them and turned the corner. She stopped there, knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but curious as to what they would have to say about her.

   “You recognize that girl, BJ?” She heard Ginger ask.

   “Nope” The man in the striped suit replied, sounding disinterested.

   “That’s Catherine Deetz’s little girl.”

   There was a slight pause.

   “You don’t say.” He replied, contempt obvious in his voice.

  _I wonder what I did to piss_ him _off_ , Lydia thought, ready to walk away. Before she could leave, she heard Ginger speak up.

   “When I realized who she was, I thought _you_ of all people would recognize her – might even want to talk with her.”

   He only grunted in response.

    _Who is this BJ guy_ , Lydia thought, as she hurried away towards her street, I’ll have to ask him if he knew my mother when I see him again.

   Lydia arrived home shortly, the sweet silence of the empty house greeted her, and she smiled once more. Locking the door behind her, Lydia kicked her shoes off and headed towards the bedroom. She would need to begin job hunting tomorrow. Half way to Louisiana, she’d opened her wallet to see how much she had left and realized that Charles had snuck a few hundred dollar bills into it, along with a little note. _Just to tide you over until you find a job- Love you pumpkin_ , it had said. Lydia smiled fondly, thinking of her father. Thanks to him and what little she had left of her savings, she could survive about a month without a job – not that she would risk it that far, but it was good to have a backup plan.

   Though her mind was busy with thoughts of her father, decorating her new home, and men in striped suits – as soon as her head hit the pillow she was out like a light.

 

* * *

 

 

   Nobody knew where he came from, or who he was exactly, but he had been here now for almost 20 years. Day in and day out, he sat at Ginger’s grocery all day smoking cigarettes and occasionally speaking with passers-by. Every now and again he’d pick up an odd job – his extensive knowledge in pretty much any task left people guessing why this guy had no permanent job or home. He spent almost every night at the homeless shelter – or Jacque’s Motel if he had the cash.

   No one knew his full name, anyone who spoke with him knew him solely as BJ the bum – or to some of the kinder folks, BJ the handyman.

   His sour disposition was off-putting to most, but he’d made some acquaintances over the years, namely Ginger, Jacques and Ralf, the kind, burley and rather _hairy_ man who lived across the street from Ginger’s shop. Shockingly, his best acquaintances were the children of the community. At first, parents were reluctant to let their children mingle with the strange man, but over the years he’d proved to be a harmless – if not bizarre – fellow. He amazed them with card tricks, coin tricks, or pretty much any sleight of hand trick.

   If not at Ginger’s, he could usually be found at the local pub. He’d won countless rounds of poker, many of the locals owing him favors if not money.

   Though many had speculated as to who he was exactly and where he’d come from, BJ remained a mystery, never giving anyone too many details about his past. The only person who knew anything about his past was Ginger, and when asked about him she’d always say the same thing: BJ is BJ – there’s no real use to knowing about his past, and if you _really_ want to know more, ask him yourself.

   Over the course of time people had just accepted him as part of the community – whether they liked him or not. If nothing else, his predictable behavior had become something the locals could count on – to an extent of course. Sometimes he’d find himself in a heap of trouble. He had a knack for pissing off the wrong people. He’d been thrown out of a handful of establishments for crude language or behavior – or in some cases just because he carried around a foul odor (to anyone’s knowledge, he had only ever worn that one striped suit.)

   This day had been no exception to his dull routine, he noted, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. He’d spent most of the day sitting at Ginger’s, knowing that if anyone had an errand for him, they could find him here. No one had though, not today at least, and the sun had just hidden its last few rays of light.

   Knowing that it was just about time to head to the shelter, he was just getting ready to leave when an outlandish looking girl strode past him without a glance in his direction. Her raven black hair was styled half-up half-down and the purple sash tied around her waist billowed behind her as she walked hastily by. Curiosity getting the better of him, he remained seated rather than begin his short trek back to the shelter.

   Peaking over his shoulder, he tried to make out her face through the store window, unable to get a good view of her. He grumbled impatiently, lighting a new cigarette. He knew just about everyone in this place, and he’d sure as hell never seen her before. Looking once more through the glass doors, BJ finally caught sight of her face and almost dropped his smoke. He’d recognize that face anywhere – but it wasn’t quite the same as he remembered. She was younger, _much_ younger than he knew was physically possible (especially considering the person he was remembering wasn’t even _alive_ anymore.) He shook his head in bewilderment, thinking that his mind was playing tricks on him. One more look at her though, and he knew he was looking at the spawn of Catherine Deetz. The resemblance was uncanny.

   Seeing that she was getting ready to leave, he quickly resumed his place on the concrete, trying to give off the vibe of indifference. She almost tripped over him then, and he hurriedly pulled his feet up to sit cross legged as she turned to offer him a smile.

_Whoa, Baby._

   She looked up and BJ realized that Ginger had stepped outside to watch the newcomer go as well. Seeming a little embarrassed the girl offered one more smile in his direction, then scurried away.

   “You recognize that girl, BJ?” Ginger asked him, shielding her lighter from the wind with a cupped hand.

   “Nope” He shrugged, aware that he wasn’t fooling anyone.  

   “That’s Catherine Deetz’s little girl.”

   He paused, unsure of how to react.

   “You don’t say.” He replied finally, still trying to play it cool.  

   “When I realized who she was, I thought you of all people would recognize her – might even want to talk with her.”

   He grunted, shrugging once more and refusing to make eye contact with his friend. She breathed a chuckle and rolled her eyes.

   After a few moments of sitting in silence, BJ rose from his seat.

   “Well, Ging, I’m headed to bed.”

   “Goodnight, BJ” She said

   “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever Babes.” He shot a lopsided grin her way before making his way back home.

 _Home_ , he thought, _yeah right_.

   After checking in, he made his way to the small room where he set up camp almost every night. This place felt nothing like home.

 _Not that I would know – I haven’t had one in 20 years_ , he thought idly, emptying his pockets on the nightstand. But he did know. Or at least, he knew that _this_ would look nothing like his home.

   Not allowed to leave any of his personal belongings during the day, the room was suffocatingly clean and bare.

 _Oh well_ , he thought as he plopped down on the small, springy mattress, _it’s a place to catch some Z’s at the very least_.

   Before falling asleep, BJ’s mind went back to the girl at the shop. He knew just by looking at her that she was Catherine’s daughter, but that isn’t really what struck him. The part he kept replaying in his mind over and over again was when she’d turned and smiled at him. No contempt. No disgust. Just a smile, and a beautiful one at that. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with such kindness. Hell, he wasn’t sure anyone ever had.

 _You’re acting like a fool_ , he scolded himself, switching off the lamp and turning over in the bed, _and not in a good way!_

   He fell asleep quickly, and for the first time in a long time, had pleasant dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

   Lydia was up bright and early the next morning to begin her job hunting. After having some breakfast and watering the plants she’d put out on her patio, she donned her large, black sunhat and headed out the door, excited for an eventful day.

   Preferring to take her Jeep instead of walking, Lydia slid into the front seat, wincing as the back of her legs made contact with the almost-hot leather seat. She would definitely need to find some seat covers before summer actually began.

   Flipping on the radio, Lydia backed out of the driveway and headed towards town. Driving past Ginger’s store, she noted that the man in the striped suit was there again. She wondered if he’d stayed there all night.

   Deciding to catch him while she could, Lydia pulled into the gravel parking lot, careful to find a spot with shade. She smiled and waved to him before walking into the store, causing him to raise an eyebrow in confusion. He glanced around to make sure she wasn’t waving at somebody else.

   “Hi Ginger!” Lydia greeted the tall brunette, bell chiming along with her arrival.

   “Well hi, honey. You’re up early.”

   “Job hunting” Lydia said, stopping at the counter where Ginger crouched, stocking the cigarette case, “you know any good places to look for a job?”

   “Oh sure, there are plenty of places to work here. Grab one of the local papers over there, you’ll find the job listings towards the back.”

   “Cool!” Lydia grabbed a paper and set it on the counter, pausing for a moment “Does he like coffee?”

   Lydia jabbed her thumb in the direction of the man outside, glancing in his direction and catching his eye for a moment.

   “BJ? Well, yeah. Why?”

   “Just curious” Lydia sauntered over to the coffee machine “I think I’ll bring him a cup.”

   Ginger shrugged, “Throw in lots of cream and sugar” she advised.

 

   After purchasing her paper and coffee, Lydia walked over to where BJ sat on the concrete and dropped to the ground in front of him, crossing her legs. He looked so confused that Lydia had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

   “Are you lost or somethin’?” he asked her skeptically

   “I got you a coffee. Ginger said you liked lots of cream and sugar.” She extended the steamy liquid towards him.

   “Uh… _why_?” He eyed the offered cup suspiciously before shrugging and taking it from her. “Did Ginger put you up to this?”

   “Nope. I just wanted to ask you something.” Lydia smiled. Up close she could see that BJ looked to be in his late thirties – around the same age as Ginger, she estimated. His greasy, blonde hair fell to his shoulders and he smelled strongly of cigarettes. As he raised a cigarette to his lips, Lydia noticed that the tip of his left middle finger was tattooed red. Despite his strange appearance, his eyes looked thoughtful and intelligent.

   “Well, are ya gonna ask me or just keep starin’?” He asked sarcastically, winking at her “I know I’m pretty to look at, but usually the ladies at least come up with an excuse first.”

   Lydia laughed, pleased with his sense of humor.

   “Sorry” She said, leaning forward to flick his striped collar, “I was just admiring your fancy suit.”

   BJ chuckled and sipped his coffee.

   “Alright then, what’s yer question?”

   Lydia sipped her own coffee then, peaking bashfully over the rim. She was a little embarrassed that she’d have to admit to listening to his and Ginger’s conversation last night.

   “I kind of… _overheard_ Ginger talking to you last night.”

   “You mean you were eavesdropping?”

   “Heh-heh…yes.”

   BJ chuckled again, a mischievous grin on his lips.

   “ _Anyways_ ” Lydia continued, “I heard her say that you of all people would recognize me. Did you know my mother?”

   BJ cringed inwardly. Catherine Deetz was a trip down memory lane that he’d rather not take.

   “Uh…yeah, kinda. We were…acquaintances.” _Friends_ wasn’t a word BJ threw around a lot, and while Catherine really _had_ been his friend, he did _not_ want her daughter to know about it.

   “Hm…” Lydia furrowed her brow thoughtfully, “Well, did you have a crush on her or something?”

   “ _Whaaaat?_ ” BJ’s eyes widened, “Where would you get an idea like that?”

   “No offence or anything” Lydia apologized, “It’s just that Ginger said if _anyone_ would recognize me, it would be you. I assumed that meant my mother was of some significance to you.”

   BJ wracked his brain for an explanation. He could see how she’d come to that conclusion, that very _wrong_ conclusion. Sure, Catherine had been a beautiful woman, but she’d also been married and pregnant for most of the time that he knew her – and BJ stayed as far away from married and pregnant as he could get.

   “Uh…yeah. I guess I kinda did. But don’t go spreading that shit around. Ginger was the only person who knew an’ I’m about to ring her neck fer not keepin’ her mouth shut!”

   Lydia placed her hand on his and BJ’s head shot up in surprise.

   “I’m sorry, BJ. The last thing I meant to do was upset you. I’m just looking for answers.” Lydia’s eyes sparkled slightly.

_Oh God, please don’t cry_ , BJ thought to himself

   “I guess I’m a little jealous” She continued, “You got to know her and I didn’t. Dad won’t tell me much and… I just want to know what she was like.”

   BJ groaned. He hated being a sucker for a pretty girl. Why couldn’t he just tell her to go the hell away?

   “Listen” he said finally, “A lot of people around here knew yer mom. I’m sure they’ll all tell you about her.”

   “Thank you BJ” Lydia said, smiling again, then as if just remembering she’d laid a hand on him, she withdrew quickly, “I guess I’d better get going. I’ve got to find a job.”

   BJ barked a laugh, “Work, ya know _I_ hate it.”

   Lydia giggled and said goodbye. As she walked away, a thought crossed BJ’s mind.

   “Hey Babes!” he called, before she got in her car.

   “Yes?”

   “If you’ve got any handy work that needs done on that piece-a-junk yer livin’ in, I’m yer man!”

   “Sounds good.” She said, shutting her door then rolling down her window, “And the name is Lydia.”

   She pulled out, leaving behind a trail of dust.

_Lydia_ , he thought, sipping his coffee, _Lydia Deetz_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

   By late afternoon, Lydia had a large stack of paper applications and at least a dozen business cards. Ginger had been right about there being a lot of work to do around here. She could have a job by tomorrow if she wanted.

_But where would be the fun in getting a job_ that _quickly_ , Lydia thought to herself.

   Almost home now, Lydia noticed that BJ no longer sat in front of Ginger’s grocery. She wondered briefly if sitting on the concrete all the time made his ass hurt, then giggled at the thought. Surely he didn’t sit out there _all_ day – he must have places to hang out or friends to visit.

   Arriving home, Lydia set her applications down on the dining room table before rushing to switch on the window unit. Pulling at her clingy shirt to allow some cool air to touch her skin, she crouched in front of the flowing air. Adjusting to the heat difference was going to be harder than she though. Sitting there, her eyes settled on the window that remained stuck shut on the other end of the wall and she rose to try opening it again. Her effort proved futile again and she huffed, placing her hands on her waist.

   Thinking once more of how she had her work cut out for her, the small, sneaky fingers of home-sickness threatened to squeeze at her stomach.

_No. No. No,_ Lydia thought to herself, _not already. I have got this 100% under control._

   Suddenly a thought occurred to her. BJ had offered to do some handy work this morning, and Lydia could most _definitely_ use the help. With a smile, Lydia concluded that she would ask him in the morning. He looked like he could use a job, anyways.

   Still not interested in filling out her applications yet, Lydia sunk onto the couch with a book in hand. Propping her head up on a pillow and hooking her legs over the arm of the couch she smiled to herself, finding it a little funny that if Delia were here right now she would tell her that she was being unladylike. It made her giggle to be rebellious in her own silly ways: drinking out of the milk carton, walking around the house in nothing but underwear, eating in the living room. To some it would probably sound like nothing, but to Lydia it was a breath of fresh air, and sometimes she found herself doing things simply because she _could_.

Kicking off her shoes, Lydia giggled once more as they sailed over her head. She settled into her seat on the couch and lost herself in a book.

 

* * *

 

 

   BJ cackled greedily as he fanned out his cards and pushed them roughly onto the table, ending another round of poker and pocketing the cash that came with it. Two of the younger men he’d been playing with stood to leave, their chairs scraping the floor as they grabbed their wallets and put on their hats.

   Garrett Sheffield remained in his seat, however, eyeing BJ from across the table.

   “One more round” he suggested, drumming his fingertips on the table, “heads up.”

   BJ laughed, “Not a chance, Pal. I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead.”

   Standing, BJ snuffed out the butt of his cigarette in the ash tray and began rolling down his sleeves. He was certain that it would be easy to beat Garrett in another round, but wasn’t willing to take this risk. He’d won enough tonight to spend the night at Jacque’s Motel instead of the shelter.

   BJ winked at the Leslie, earning an eye roll from the red haired bartender behind the counter, “Catch ya later, Babes.”

   “You’re just afraid of losing” Garrett called as BJ turned to leave.

   “Hey man, if you’re trying to get a rise out of me it isn’t gonna work” BJ turned with a thoughtful look on his face, “You’re sister on the other hand, she can get a rise out of me _anytime_ she wants – _know what I mean_?”

   Garrett stood forcefully, his chair toppling over behind him.

   “You wanna say that again?” He challenged, hands balled into angry fists at his sides.

   “I saaaaiiid” BJ mocked, “Yer sister is a _real_ good fuck.”

   Before he could step forward, the look of anger on Garrett’s face shifted quickly to shock as a loud noise echoed through the bar. Glancing to his left, BJ saw that Leslie had slammed a glass down on the counter to interrupt the potential fight.

   “Enough” She said, glaring at the two men “Either cool it or leave.”

   “But Lez, you heard what he said about Ash-”

   “Oh shut up, Garrett. You and I both know Ashley wouldn’t touch him with a 10 foot pole. He’s just trying to piss you off.”

   BJ scoffed. Garrett looked so adolescent, pouting like a baby. This dude wasn’t worth the scuffle. In truth, BJ had never even considered sleeping with Garrett’s sister. Men like him thought they owned their sisters, wives and mothers. Using that against them was the surest and quickest way to piss them off.

   “I was leaving anyways” BJ said truthfully with a shrug.

 

   Walking back to Ginger's, BJ mused at how he had a knack for pissing people off, and not for the first time today, his mind wandered back to the pretty little thing he’d talked to this morning. He wondered how long it would be till she hated him too.

   She’d spoken with him freely this morning, as if he _wasn’t_ the homeless vermin that sat on the ground all day long, as if he _didn’t_ smell of cigarettes and body odor. Hell, she’d even touched him briefly. Honestly, BJ wasn’t sure to think of the outlandish newcomer.

   Shaking his head, BJ sighed, kicking a pebble with the pointy toe of his old, warn boot. She’d realize he was trash soon enough, he reckoned. The locals would be sure to tell her of his reputation and she’d shun him just like everyone else did.

_Sheesh, stop being so depressing_ , he scolded himself, thwacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. Fortunately, his stomach picked a convenient time to growl and he patted his beer gut compliantly.

   “Time to find some grub” he said aloud, and finished his short walk to Ginger’s to buy a cold, canned dinner.  

 

 

* * *

 

   Lydia woke with a start to the sound of her ringing phone. Yanking her head up in surprise, she squeaked as she came close to ripping out a page from her open novel that her face now seemed to be stuck to.

   Clutching her phone hurriedly, Lydia answered without bothering to check the caller ID. It was probably her dad anyways.

   “Hello?” She answered, running the sleep from her eyes and settling onto a dining room chair.

   “Hey Lydia, this is Jerry Garcia. How you doing, girl?”

   Lydia’s groggy mind struggled to remember who she was speaking with. After a short pause, she remembered him as her dad’s old friend – the one that had found the house for her.

   “Oh, Jerry! Right, sorry – I just woke up from a nap, my mind is still trying to catch up. Heh-heh…” She chuckled nervously, hoping she hadn’t offended him by momentarily forgetting his name after all the help he’d been while she was half a country away.

   “That’s alright, hun.” He said, sounding unphased “I was just calling to see how you liked your new place. You settling in alright?”

   “Oh, Jerry is _perfect_. I really can’t thank you enough for finding this place.”

   “Aw, it was no sweat, girl. That place has been vacant for a couple of years. It was actually the first place to cross my mind when your dad said you were looking for a place.”

   “Still” Lydia persisted, “Thank you.”

   “Well, you’re welcome.” He paused “Say, you haven’t had dinner yet, have you? My daughter Peggy makes a mean pot of spaghetti. Why don’t you come over for a bit and catch me up on ol’ Chucky.”

   Lydia glanced out her window, seeing that the sun was close to setting. The clock on her microwave read half past seven.

   “Sure Jerry that sounds nice. Where do you live?”

 

   Insisting that he pick her up, Jerry promptly pulled into her driveway 20 minutes later. Shaking hands, Lydia noted that despite his surname, Jerry Garcia didn’t look like he had a drop of Hispanic blood in him. Standing only a few inches taller than her, Jerry was a small, thin man with short, silver hair combed backwards, a thick silver mustache, and black rimmed glasses.

   The ride to his house was short but pleasant. Lydia relaxed a little when he rolled down his window slightly and pulled out a cigarette, taking it as a que to pull out her own pack.

   “Your parents know you do that?” He eyed her warily.

   “I won’t tell if you won’t.”  She smiled bashfully, and he laughed, nodding.

 

   Jerry’s home sat on the outskirts of town off of a short gravel road. Several mature trees stood in his lawn and a porch light illuminated a section of the front of his house, revealing a worn blue paint. An old looking porch swing hanging from thin chains added to the homey feel, as well as a multitude of assorted plants spilling from pots and growing beneath the wooden porch. It was clear that his house was _lived_ in – even the outside looked warm and inviting. Lydia looked at the house and saw inspiration for her own new home.

   Jerry smiled at her awed expression and extinguished the butt of his cigarette with the heel of his sneaker.

   “Come on” he said, leading the way, “I’ll introduce you to the boss.”

   Lydia quirked an eyebrow and followed him up the steps and through the door.

   The inside was not dissimilar to the outside. Clean but not necessarily _tidy_ , kick knacks hung from every wall and littered almost every surface, the carpet was dark and plush, the air warm but not stifling. Everything about this place screamed _comfort_. Lydia smiled a little sadly, thinking of her own childhood home. Delia had always kept things immaculately clean and posh – entertaining her elegant, upper-class friends called for an opulent (and in Delia’s case, _artistic_ ) household. Her old home in comparison to this one seemed rather cold.

   As she took in her surroundings, a girl not much older than Lydia greeted them, spoon in hand. The girl’s curly black hair bounced slightly as she shook hands with Lydia. In spite of her father’s pale complexion, her skin was a creamy, dark color.

   “I’m Peggy” She said smiling, “You must be Lydia.”

   “You must be the boss” Lydia laughed.

   Releasing her hold on Lydia’s hand, Peggy shifted her attention to her father to peck him on the cheek, “He says that to everybody. Me? Bossy? Yeah, right!”

 

   Table made, the three of them sat down to eat. Jerry began a short prayer just as Lydia picked up her fork. She dropped it quickly, bowing her head in respect and sneaking a quick peak in Peggy’s direction. The girl smiled slightly in amusement – eyes closed. After blessing the food and thanking God for their guest, the trio dug in. Jerry had been right about Peggy’s spaghetti making abilities.

   Just as she began to think about how this meal surpassed anything that Delia had ever made for supper, Lydia realized that ever since she’d arrived here, she’d been comparing everything to Delia.

_Well, what else do I have to compare anything to_ , She thought defensively against her conscience. Deep down, though, Lydia knew that Delia cared about her. Mothering hadn’t been her strong suit, but if anything, Delia had appealed to Lydia’s artistic side, even encouraged it (even if she didn’t quite understand Lydia’s idea of art). Lydia decided then to make an effort to stop mentally throwing Delia under the bus. It really wasn’t fair, she supposed.

   The meal passed quickly in conversation, and Lydia was pleased at how hospitable her hosts had been. She’d not had a single moment to feel awkward or out of place, and was more than grateful for it.

   In the course of conversation, Lydia learned that Peggy’s mother Karina had traveled here from Brazil as a young adult. In a strange but romantic turn of events, Jerry had ended up taking Karina’s last name instead of the other way around. Karina had passed away while Peggy was still young, but they talked of her fondly with little sadness on their part. Peggy worked as a substitute teacher during the school year and a camp counselor during most of the summer, while Jerry managed a hardware store in town. 

   Jerry offered what little information he knew about Lydia's mother without prompting. No one that he could think of knew Catherine's blood relatives - and Charles' parents had both passed away before he'd gotten married. Catherine had moved here as a young woman – not unlike Lydia herself.

_Though for probably different reasons_ , Lydia thought to herself.

   No one knew exactly what she did for a living, but she and Charles lived comfortably. All Jerry knew what that she drove out of town almost every afternoon and didn’t arrive home until late. Catherine had a unique kindness and could often be found spending time with the stragglers of Greenwick – much to Charles’ chagrin. Charles would confide in Jerry sometimes about it, he understood the importance of socializing with the misfits and loving your neighbors, but he fretted over his wife a lot – especially when she got pregnant.

   Her death had been untimely and unexpected, as much a mystery as the rest of her short life. The man that shot her had been a stranger to both her and Charles, and now slept 6 feet under, having received the death penalty for such a heinous crime.

 

   Lydia was grateful for the information, considering it a good start in her search for answers. Jerry drove her home shortly after, ready to get some sleep. She thanked him for his hospitality and for telling her about Catherine.

   “It’s my pleasure, girl.” He said before she shut the car door. She smiled and waved as he drove off, then unlocked her front door.

   Feeling quite awake thanks to her lengthy nap, Lydia took advantage of her time and finished unpacking. Young as she was, Lydia didn’t have many things of her own and made up her mind to start a collection of… _things_ – to make her house more homey, like Jerry’s. As it were, Lydia thought her home still looked so bare and wondered where she should begin as far as decoration went.

_Painting’s as good a place as any_ , she thought, adding it to her mental list of things to as for BJ’s help with. Grabbing her thick pile of applications, Lydia made herself comfortable on the couch and spent the rest of her night filling them out. 


End file.
